Don't You Dare Read This, MrsDunphrey Alternate
by xxallisonxx
Summary: What would've happened if Tish hadn't given the journal to Mrs.Dunphrey?  This was another essay I did for English class, just recently actually. It did get an A. :D


1_CONFIDENTIAL__ Essay Paper_

by Allison Bobbitt

I sat on the grimy bench outside of Burger Boy. Of course I had to be fired, and of course it had to be raining. I probably should've been thinking of how I was going to pay the mountainous pile of leftover bills sitting on the counter at the house, but honestly, all I could think about was how flat my hair was as the rain poured down all around me and my hope. I hadn't quite grasped the reality of my situation, that I was all Matt and I had. I was now the sole provider for the both of us, and so far, I was failing. I was miserably, _moistly_ failing. I had to start doing something . . .

I sat on the bench for a while just thinking. Sure my hair was now plastered to my head and my only pair of clean clothes were now soaked through, but I decided right then to not care; there were much more significant things to think over now, and I didn't have time to be superficial.

After what seemed like all night, I stood and started walking home with a plan formulating inside of my mind, floating around like the stars above me. First, and most importantly, I had to get another job; bills had to be payed and groceries had to be bought. School would probably be the last thing on my list, seeing as I would need all the revenue I could bring in, even if that meant two or three jobs- I had to make it happen.

I passed through the neighborhood of long-abandoned houses with shattered windows and unmown grass. I used to be embarrassed to say that I lived down this street, but now I could care less what Sandy or anybody else thought about it. It's hard to assimilate that just yesterday I was scrambling to get out of this street, and now I'm just lucky to stay here.

I stopped in front of our house and drank in the sight of it. It wasn't the most alluring house on the block with its peeling paint and cracked steps, but I was fortuitous enough to not be living on the streets. As I thought this, I slumped up the stairs, turning my collar up against the wind and rain in a vain attempt at keeping my clothes anymore saturated than they already were. I felt relief as I stepped under the small concealment of the edge of the roof and took a breath of frosty air, opening the door and stepping inside.

I wiped the bottom of my mud-stained shoes on the welcome rug and walked into the living room. Matt was sitting on the couch watching his favorite cartoon show. For a quick moment, it felt like it used to when Mom was here: Matt watching cartoons, me talking on the phone, and Mom quietly rocking in her rocking chair.

The ruse soon dissipated when Matt turned to me with wide eyes and asked, "Did you buy food?" I could hear the rumbling of his famished stomach.

"No, not yet," I said dejectedly. His chin dropped to his chest as his stomach gave another ravenous outcry. It was a pitiful sight to behold, and it made me feel penitent.

I threw my bag off of my shoulders and pulled out the leftovers from my last and final shift at Burger Boy. Of course I had lifted every good piece of food I could see. The chefs in the back had helped me out by giving me 6 good double burgers and leftover fries. They always were fond of me and could empathize with my standpoint.

"I do have leftover burgers and fries, though," I said in a hope-redeeming voice. The food at Burger Boy was in no way salubrious, but it would do for the next few days.

Matt took a long look at the food and sighed. We'd had burgers for the last week, and he was rapidly growing tired of them. With all of the courage he could muster, he reached out and grabbed an oily burger from the bag. He shot me a small but reassuring smile and unwrapped the greasy mess of a food and started eating it down. I smiled back and went to heat up the fries, ruffling his hair as I went. After the fries were heated, I brought them back to him and set them down next to his now empty wrapper.

I watched as he ate, making note of how the rumbling had ceased and his pale skin turned a slight shade darker than it had been before. Before long, he was done eating and we were snuggled up together on the couch watching mindless cartoons on television, laughing every time someone fell or was hit with a massive-sized hammer. Somewhere in between commercials and the next show, we both fell asleep on the couch, his head resting on my stomach and a blanket thrown over us. It was the most peaceful sleep I'd had in the past 6 months.

The next morning came in nothing flat as the sunlight crept in between the cracked curtains. I carefully crept out of my place, positioning the blanket back over his still sleeping form.

I grabbed an almost clean bowl and ate the bland cereal in the living room. I sat there eating for half an hour with the only noise being the metal clinking of my spoon against the bowl and Matt's steady breathing as his chest rose and fell in sleep formation.

I put my bowl away silently, careful not to wake Matt, when I heard a harsh knocking at the door. I jumped at the severity of it and rushed to answer it.

I opened the door, and ,once I had blinked back the sun, saw a man in a gray uniform. I said nothing, unsure of what I should really say.

"This the Bonner residence?" he asked brusquely. I nodded my head, still wondering what this morning intruder wanted.

My wondering came to an abrupt end when he handed me a small envelope that was stamped with 'EVICTION' in giant red letters.

The man said, "You've got 48 hours," turned around and high-tailed it back to his truck, stumbling over rocks and gravel as he went, but I stood with my back stiff and hands shaking. I looked back at the man who was now leaving in his truck, exhaust trailing behind him.

I blinked my eyes a few times to make sure that the morning sunlight wasn't making a phantasm. Much to my chagrin, it wasn't. I tore back into the house and ripped open the envelope. I scanned over its entirety and felt the air rush out of my lungs. Apparently, we'd been notified of this for quite a few months now, even before Mom left.

How could she do this to us? She knew that even with the money she tried to leave us, we wouldn't have enough for all of the bills she left. It seemed impossible that I could be even more furious with her, but that dam just broke as rage and fury flooded through my veins in a gush of hatred and malice. I could feel my face scrunched up in vehement loathing. I could feel my temper rising each second. Naturally, Matt chose this very time to wake up and ask for food. Out went the steam.

I screamed out expletives and all of my frustrations in a whirlwind of animosity. I must've been ranting for about a whole five minutes to my audience of a whimpering Matt. His eyes were huge as silent tears seeped from his eyes in streams of chill until finally he broke and crashed to his knees, hands holding his face from view. I stopped cold in my speech and felt qualms overwhelm me.

I kneeled down to his rocking stance and wrapped my arms around him. I knew he would forgive me eventually because he always did, but that still didn't stall my feelings of guilt.

We sat there for a while until he finally stopped crying. He looked back up at me with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes and said, "What happened, Tish?"

"Well, Matt, we have to leave for a while," I admitted dolefully. He nodded his understanding and looked back at me.

"Are we going to come back?" he asked in a small voice.

I wanted to say that yes, we would come back. I would've given anything to answer back yes, but I couldn't deny him the truth any longer; it would only complicate the future even more than it already would be, so I answered, "probably not, Matt. We should go pack our stuff now, though. We're leaving tonight."

He climbed out of my embrace and shuffled back to his room. I followed and searched around for bags to pack. Eventually, I gave up my search and grabbed his school bag, emptying out its contents and stuffing clothes in it.

"Am I going back to school?" Matt asked once we finished packing his clothes. Thank God his backpack was half of his body.

"I'm not sure, Matt, maybe." I replied.

"Can I bring toys, Tish?" he asked immediately after.

I gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Whatever you can fit into your bag. We can't be bringing too much, or it'll get too heavy for us to carry."

He nodded and went to collect his favorite toys, which were most of them. Surprisingly, they all fit with a good amount of space left- the benefits of being tiny.

I took a look into my room and gazed over at my things. I wouldn't be able to bring much. I would only take the essentials like clothing, a brush, maybe a little make-up; the less I took, the more I could sell.

I grabbed a drawstring bag and started shoveling in what I needed. By the time I was done, my room looked a bit neater and my bag was full, though still considerably lighter than Matt's bag.

Setting down our bags by the front door, I went into the kitchen and packed away all of the sparse food we had left and threw it into a plastic grocery bag from Haggard's. After I was done, I put the food bag next to our other bags.

Matt was sitting patiently on the couch. He would have to go to a friend's house while I went out and sold the rest of our things.

"Alright, Matt, ready to go?" I asked him in a false cheery voice.

He jumped up and grabbed his bag before dropping it because of its weight. Instead, he picked up the food bag, the lightest of them all, and started to head out of the door in a military march. I couldn't help but laugh.

We walked the three blocks to Matt's friend's house. While walking, we made a game out of kicking the rocks like in a soccer game. He seemed cheered up despite the fact that we were walking in deep heat.

When we finally reached the right house, Matt gave me a hug and ran up the pavement. I grabbed the food bag and put his bag inside by the door, feeling the air conditioning's sweet caress as I reached inside. I spoke with the friend's mother and told her that Matt wanted to stay the weekend, pointing to his clothes. She gladly consented and assured me that she would love to have him for the weekend. I smiled and headed on my way.

I had to think of a place we could stay. We could always stay with friends until we could find a more permanent residence, but they would become wearily suspicious of the fact that we were missing so many days of schools, leading to uncomfortable questions that I was not yet able to answer.

With that in mind, I finally decided that we would stay in the motel down the street from Haggard's. It only cost thirty-five dollars a week for one bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen, but it would have to suffice for the time being.

I walked to the motel and got a one bedroom; Matt and I could share a bed without a problem. Once I got the key, I put away our things and set off to go sell our other things back at the house.

Getting the neighbor to drive me for a fee of ten dollars, I successfully got to the thrift store and crammed our things into the store.

It was ten minutes before I could get to the corner. The man at the register had an old face and a kind voice. I could see the way that he looked upon me with pity as he rang up each item. Once he was done scanning each item, he gave me a receipt that entitled me to a total of about four hundred dollars. With an extra bounce in my step, I got him to cash my receipt and pocketed the cash, walking out of the store with a huge, goofy smile on my face.

I went back to the motel and tidied up, fixing the blankets on the bed, putting our toothbrushes in the bathroom, and putting away our food. This was going to be a long weekend.

Weeks passed by as I searched for a job without any luck. All of the fast food places weren't hiring part or full time. I tried applying at Haggard's, but they weren't hiring anyone under-aged until the summer-time, and I couldn't wait that long.

As the weeks passed by, my bundle of cash slowly dwindled as well as Matt's health. He was always getting sick to the point of throwing up and turning green, and I didn't know what to do. Granma was always the one who dealt with all of this.

It was another average night: the heater in our room was broken, Matt was sniffling, and the motel was asking us when we were going to leave because we were getting late on the weekly payments.

"Tish?" Matt asked as he sat with a tissue covering his nose, mutilating his voice, "when am I going to get better?"

That was actually a very good question. Matt had recovered from the rest of his colds moderately quick, but he'd been sick for quite a few weeks now.

"I- I'm not sure, Matt," I said as my voice strained to answer questions I shouldn't have to answer.

"Am I going to die?" he asked.

I jumped up and enveloped him into a huge hug, shushing his protests with, "of course not, Matt!" I then snuggled us into the bed with an extra blanket I'd brought along and listened as Matt's rasped breaths steadily slowed into a lulled breathing of peace.

It was no surprise that he did not get better. He steadily got worse as time went by.

The motel finally gave up on us and officially kicked us out, giving us back our twenty dollar deposit- like that helped.

We were walking the streets back to the old house just to see if we could sneak into it if it wasn't already sold when it happened.

Matt had been slouching along; he never skipped anymore- it was much too strenuous an activity for his meek little body being sick.

I saw it happen in slow motion as he stopped in front of me: his legs quivered and then fell to the ground. There was a thud as his head hit the concrete, bouncing back once and then twice, finally resting on the ground. I stood stock-still in horror.

_This couldn't happen._

I screamed for help.

_It never should have happened this way._

Some people stopped their walks and called for an ambulance.

_We were supposed to live peacefully without Mom and Dad_

The ambulance arrived quickly and carried us aboard and to the hospital.

_In a house surrounded by a garden_

They shocked his little body, trying to revive him.

_In a neighborhood with a sidewalk you can actually see_

The shock treatment didn't work; he's still unconscious.

_With oak trees in the front yard._

Flat line . . .

With the rest of my money, I bought him a headstone. It was just a blank headstone. There was no funeral, no priest, no beautiful speech about his early death, no formalities, just a blank headstone and a few tears shed from an irresponsible high-schooler. I'd decided that I wanted to eventually go out and search for Mom and Dad, but not just yet; I needed time or else I would do something irrational, I just knew it.

As his body was placed inside the ground, I turned and walked in whatever direction the other way was. I walked and walked until I came across a house with a garden in a neighborhood with sidewalks you could actually see and oak trees in every front yard.

A/N:

Wow, that's two little boys dead in two essays. I see a pattern forming here that I should probably break . . . Death is just so easy for me to write about. Anyway, my printer was out of ink and you have my flash-drive for the Romeo & Juliet project, so I had to send this via e-mail. Hope you like it. :)

(PS: I couldn't remember the name of the store where Tish's mom worked and couldn't find it in the book, even though I blatantly remember reading it :/ So, yeah, it might be wrong)


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